


double rainbow

by bethaboo



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Crack, I'm honestly not even sure what this is, M/M, Matchmaking, Requited Unrequited Love, kind of, lots of unrequested sartorial advice, no orgies, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethaboo/pseuds/bethaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian has to remind himself: Bucky Barnes does not exist. Bucky Barnes is a figment of his imagination. He created Bucky Barnes.</p><p>But Bucky Barnes is right here, like he's a real person (a real person who looks exactly like Sebastian does) and that real person has real questions. Like: "why aren't you and Chris screwing across the seven continents?"</p><p>the Evanstan/Stucky matchmaking fic that literally nobody ever asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	double rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like some sort of profound apology is in order. this is the weirdest thing I've ever written, made weirder by me continually trying to make it seem not weird. idk, I think I'm just not cut out to write crack!fic because I kept worrying about emotional continuity and development IN A CRACK!FIC. smh.
> 
> thank you to [Liz](http://cuethetommo.tumblr.com), as always, who left me unsupervised with this mess and had to come to me and say, "what the fuck are you doing, this is not what a crack!fic is supposed to be like." touche, Liz, touche.
> 
> but this is mostly for my lovely [Elise](http://ididntwritethatline.tumblr.com), who likes to yell with me about Evanstan and Stucky.

Sebastian wakes up so gradually that at first he almost doesn’t notice.

 

Almost.

 

It turns out that no matter how tired you are or how many nights you’ve gotten to bed after midnight and had to get up at five, if your twin is sleeping on a chair on the other side of the room, you wake the fuck up.

 

Before he actually moves though, Seb pinches his arm once. There’s a bite of pain. He pinches his thigh. Harder. It hurts even more. He’s definitely not dreaming and _wow,_ this fucking sucks.

 

For a split second, he really considers calling down to the concierge, but what is he going to say?  _ Sorry, there’s another version of me in my room? _ What would they even say?  _ Sorry you’re so weird and crazy? _ Seb doesn’t want to be that high maintenance actor that  _ US Weekly  _ gleefully writes about for the next six months. 

 

Sebastian narrows his eyes and tries to focus in the pre-morning gloom of the hotel room. Oh yeah, and even more creepily, Other Seb is wearing what might be a really good replica of Bucky’s WWII uniform.

 

A chill goes up Sebastian’s spine, and he reaches for his phone. He doesn’t care how crazy he sounds, he just wants this to be over. He’s heard nightmare whispers of fans getting plastic surgery to look like their idols, and he always assumed there was still only a passing resemblance. But the Other Seb is his photocopy; or  _ Bucky’s  _ photocopy, more like. If Bucky was actually a person that existed.

 

But before Sebastian can actually dial, or figure out _ who  _ to dial – right now he’s internally debating between his agent or the Marvel PR liaison on this press junket – Other Seb wakes up.

 

“Oh,  _ hi _ ,” Other Seb says, like this is a perfectly normal thing, like they often wake up in the same room together. “You’re finally awake.”

 

Sebastian doesn’t want to talk to it, but choices are limited. “Uh, hi, what are you doing in my room? And also,  _ what are you doing?” _

 

Other Seb just grins, that carefree smile that Sebastian knows he perfected as Bucky Barnes. Maybe he should be calling Other Seb  _ Bucky  _ instead. He has to remind himself again:  _ Bucky Barnes does not exist _ . 

 

“It’s sorta a long story,” Other Seb says, “we should really find Chris and Steve for the full explanation.”

 

Seb pulls the covers up as close to his face that they’ll get and seriously considers dialing the Marvel PR liaison’s phone number. This has veered past creepy into something else entirely.

 

“ _ Steve?”  _ Sebastian asks, very aware of the note of hysteria in his voice. “Of course there’s a Steve, we already have a  _ Bucky _ .”

 

Bucky frowns.  _ No _ , Sebastian corrects _ , he’s Other Seb.  _ Not  _ Bucky _ . Bucky doesn’t exist. “Well of course there’s a Steve,” he says, looking perplexed. “You can’t really have one without the other. They’re sorta a matched pair.”

 

“That is . . . .that is not an explanation that helps me feel any better.”

 

“Get dressed,” Other Seb orders rather brazenly for a cosplayer who probably spent a fortune on plastic surgery. “We need to find Steve and Chris.”

 

Sebastian really does  _ mean  _ to dial the Marvel PR lady’s number. He  _ does _ . But he doesn’t. He just . . .goes with it.  _ Chris will know what to do _ is a platitude that Sebastian tells himself as he pulls on sweatpants and an old t-shirt, shoving his feet into sneakers. Chris is capable. Chris is reasonable. Chris will almost certainly have encountered someone of this  _ intensity  _ before. Sebastian is just not equipped to handle this, not at five in the morning.

 

Luckily, it’s so early in the morning that the hotel corridors are empty. Sebastian wouldn’t even know  _ how  _ to begin explaining why there are suddenly two of him, and why one of them is wearing a WWII uniform. They walk down the hallway, Sebastian vaguely remembering where Chris’ room is after seeing him walk to it the night before. It’s four doors down and they get there way too quickly. Or maybe not quickly enough. Sebastian isn’t sure.

 

He knocks. At first he worries Chris is still asleep, but then he hears rustling and then  _ voices _ , not just Chris’ voice, but Chris  _ talking  _ to someone. Sebastian wants to die.

 

Chris took someone back to his room last night and now he’s going to open the door and be faced with Sebastian and Other Seb, cosplayer extraordinaire. Sebastian is. . .not okay with what is about to happen.

 

So it doesn’t even come as that big of a surprise when Chris opens the door a crack and has a harried, rather annoyed expression on his face. But then something even weirder happens when Chris spots Sebastian. “Oh, it’s you,” he says. Like this is not really so unexpected at all. Like Sebastian regularly knocks on his hotel room door so early. 

 

“Uh,” Sebastian stumbles eloquently.

 

“I’m a bit . . .busy,” Chris says. “Can we talk later? I’ll find you?”

 

It is going to be one of the single most embarrassing incidences of Sebastian’s life, but  _ no _ , he can’t wait. He has Other Seb with him, out of the range of Chris’ vision, but there is only so long he can deal with this before he cracks. Other Seb isn’t a bad person, merely misguided, and the thought of what sort of trouble Marvel might cause for him makes Sebastian not want to call the PR liaison. He’s also afraid of looking deeply, horrifically cracked to the people who cut his checks.

 

“No,” Sebastian says. “It. . .it really can’t wait.”   
  


Frustration flashes over Chris’ features. Sebastian utters a silent prayer that Chris wasn’t just about to have sex.

 

He does not want to see the  _ person _ – he has been very careful to be generic since Chris confided in him that he’s attracted to both men and women – that Chris Evans took home and has probably had up all night fucking. And fucking this morning. It’s not that he’s jealous, but there’s a weird jumbled feeling in his stomach that has nothing to do with Other Seb.

 

But he pushes all of that aside because Other Seb is taking all of Sebastian’s mental faculties at this moment. “I know it’s terrible timing,” Sebastian adds, adding a grimace. “I’m very sorry.”

 

It’s only then that Other Seb chooses to wander into Chris’ field of view and there’s a sudden clarity in Chris’ expression. “Of fucking course,” Chris says resignedly. “Of course he’s here too.”

 

Up until this moment, Sebastian has not really given any credence to the fact that Other Seb claims there’s a Steve in Chris’ room. But Chris’ expression and his complete lack of shock mean that Other Seb might have been right. And that is a whole other level of fucked up that Sebastian does not need right now.

 

“You’d better come in,” Chris is saying, opening the door a little wider. “Before anyone sees you. I’m assuming nobody did, yeah?”

 

Sebastian nods absently as they walk through the door. Chris shuts it behind them and Sebastian glances up to see . . .Captain America in all his WWII glory, sitting on the couch opposite Chris’ unmade bed.

 

“Oh fuck me,” Sebastian swears. “He wasn’t lying.”

 

“Not exactly, no,” Chris agrees.

 

They watch in fascination as Bucky and Steve’s eyes meet and then Sebastian feels his jaw drop as the two men greet each other. By kissing on the mouth.

 

Sebastian considers himself a very open individual. He’s played gay men. He personally identifies as something not-straight on the Kinsey scale. But there’s something about seeing this  _ very  _ accurate Bucky Barnes kiss this  _ very  _ accurate Steve Rogers that’s flummoxing.

 

“Hoooooly shit,” Chris says from behind him.

 

They’re really kissing now, hands all over and Sebastian thinks he sees a glimpse of tongue but he still can’t tear his eyes away. It’s not one of his finer moments. He’s always seeing chatter online that he and Chris make an attractive couple and considering the evidence that’s right in front of him, it turns out they’re not wrong.

 

They’re not just aesthetically pleasing; they’re fucking  _ hot _ .

 

Steve and Bucky – Sebastian has given up on calling him anything else – finally break apart and glance up at their audience. “Did yours whine?” Bucky asks in a hushed whisper as if they aren’t standing  _ right there _ . “Mine whined a lot.”

 

Steve tips his head and regards Chris, who’s still standing next to Sebastian, jaw dropped and shock still fresh in his eyes. “He was more afraid I was going to want to  . . . you  _ know _ ,” Steve says.

 

“Oh for the love of god,” Chris interrupts. “That isn’t what I said. And can’t you even say the word  _ sex _ ? What are you? Thirteen?”

 

“Not quite a hundred,” Steve says with that sort of gracious dignity he has, even in the face of the ridiculous. The gracious dignity that  _ Chris  _ gave him. Sebastian’s eyes track from Chris to Steve to Chris again and doesn’t even know what to say because suddenly it’s hit him. There are  _ two  _ of them, and wow, that’s not even a fantasy he thought he had. But then this is Chris. He’s gorgeous and kind –  _ and a good friend _ , Sebastian forces himself to add.

 

Sebastian interrupts before they can go down the slippery slope that is discussing sex. “I’d like you to please explain what this is,” he says, calling on a life of acting lessons to imbue his voice with the sort of authority that he’s never had to use.

 

“What this is?” Steve asks, a perplexed look on his face.

 

“I mean  _ who  _ you are and what the fuck you’re doing here,” Sebastian demands. Chris has gone uncharacteristically silent behind him.

 

“I’m Captain Steve Rogers . . .” Steve gets out before there’s a loud groan behind him. 

 

“Captain Steve Rogers  _ doesn’t exist _ ,” Chris practically yells.

 

“Hey, hey, why don’t you pipe down there, and let us explain,” Bucky says. He’s got the same Brooklyn edge to his voice that Sebastian remembers practicing for hours. He can feel the way the words would feel in his mouth, like it’s practically him saying them.

 

It’s like  _ déjà vu _ , but something far, far weirder.

 

Chris must feel it too, because he shuts right up.

 

“You made us,” Steve says timidly. “You created us when you made your movies. And normally it wouldn’t be enough to send us here, to your reality, but well . . .” He glances over at Bucky, who just shrugs.

 

“You might as well tell them everything,” Bucky retorts with an extra-long eye roll for emphasis.

 

“What,” Chris snaps. Sebastian glances over at him, and takes in the tense line of his back under his thin t-shirt. He looks upset, but also horribly apprehensive. And Sebastian can’t deny that he feels a good amount of similar tension. This is more than bizarre. They can’t  _ create  _ people with their acting. It’s just pretend.

 

Right?

 

“Well,” Steve continues and he sounds pretty apologetic, “the truth is, we came because something needed to be done.”

 

“What he’s saying,” Bucky practically interrupts, all buzzing impatience – an impatience that Sebastian feels echoing under his own skin – “what he’s  _ trying  _ to say is that you two are idiots.”

 

Sebastian looks over at Chris again, and Chris is looking back. His eyes are dark but still so blue. Sebastian has found the trick to dealing with Chris Evans, to keeping him in the neat box that Sebastian has created for him, is to never quite look directly at him. It’s a bit like looking directly into the sun. 

 

“Lovesick fools, more like,” Steve chuckles.

 

Sebastian’s mouth goes dry.

 

“Explain,” Chris barks. Sebastian doesn’t have any words at all.

 

“It’s like this, right?” Bucky says. “There’s a script. You speak the words you’re told to speak. The director tells you a bit how to  _ be _ , as us, but a lot of what  _ we  _ are – the foundation of us, really – that’s all on you. You  _ made  _ us. And so just as we’re a part of you, you’re a part of us.”

 

“We know you better than you know yourselves,” Steve adds.

 

Sebastian wants to stop this, but it’s like a train wreck; he can’t look away, he can’t open his mouth and keep Bucky or Steve from laying all his deeply hidden secrets bare.

 

“If you’re really a part of us, then why the kissing?” Chris asks. He’s got one hip leaning on the desk chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. His biceps are straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt and it’s a  _ lot _ .

 

“We aren’t kissing,” Sebastian manages to get out, and hopes everyone ignores the pulse of longing in his voice. It’s not like he wishes they were exactly –  _ oh _ ,  _ who is he fooling?  _ If kissing Chris was  _ ever  _ on the table, he’d be thrilled.

 

Steve shoots them both one of his most patented  _ Captain-America-is-disappointed-in-you _ looks and blows everything to hell. “But you should be.”

 

Sebastian’s eyes fly to Chris, who doesn’t say anything, just stands there and if Sebastian is being really honest, doesn’t look all that shocked or astonished or disgusted.

 

“I think you’re confused,” he finally says. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone, even you, Seb.” Chris hesitates. “I’ve been playing Steve like he’s in love with Bucky. That’s what he wants. That’s all he wants, really. And maybe that’s what you need to hear to let this go. Yes, Steve’s in love with Bucky.”

 

Sebastian is still wrangling with all this when Steve gives Chris a very unimpressed look. “I wasn’t talking about Bucky and I, but yes, that much is appallingly obvious. We already  _ know  _ that, because we  _ are  _ Steve and Bucky.”

 

Bucky’s gaze suddenly falls on Sebastian. “What about you?” he asks very casually. “Anything you’d like to confess, Sebastian?”

 

Sebastian freezes. There’s lots he  _ could  _ confess. “I uh. . .well. . .obviously also decided Bucky was in love with Steve,” he says, though at the time that had felt less like an actual decision than a runaway character bleed that he hadn’t quite figured out how to control during the shooting of  _ First Avenger _ . 

 

There’s lots of footage of Sebastian gazing adoringly at Chris – supposedly Bucky gazing adoringly at Steve – that never made it into the film. But Sebastian saw enough of it to know the truth. The only miracle is that Chris has somehow remained uneducated about Sebastian’s old crush.

 

“Right,” Bucky says. “Again,  _ we knew that _ . Did you miss the kissing? You know, all that kissing that you  _ aren’t  _ doing. We’re doing lots of it.”

 

“Right,” Sebastian echoes weakly. He’s not going to be jealous.  _ He’s not jealous _ .

 

“The real question,” Steve says, “is if you decided Steve and Bucky were in love first or if that happened because you fell in love with each other.”

 

Sebastian feels his eyebrows hit his hairline and honestly, it’s indicative of how strange this morning has been in general that this question, while terrifying, doesn’t feel as weird as it could have been.

 

“The latter,” Bucky says decisively, turning to Steve as if Chris and Sebastian aren’t  _ right there _ in front of him. “You know I think we’re the manifestation of their longing for each other. Without all this unrequited bullshit, we might not even exist.”

 

“What a concept,” Chris cuts in, tone harsh. “Tell me Dr. Phil, do you take private clients?”

 

Sebastian looks at the floor. He might be in love with Chris. It isn’t crazy. But Chris sure doesn’t seem like he’s in love with him.   
  


“Seb, back me up,” Chris insists, reaching for his shoulder like it’s second nature to touch. It’s agonizing to feel that warmth slide across his upper back, so familiar and yet so far from what he really wants. Chris touches everyone; Chris touches Sebastian all the time. Just not the way Sebastian wants to be touched.

 

He shrugs, feeling vaguely hysterical and trying to tamp it down. He’s got to get out of here before everything explodes. “It’s not that crazy,” is what he finally settles on. It doesn’t really say anything, at least not what he  _ could  _ say if he wanted to.

 

There’s realization dawning in Chris’ eyes and Sebastian has to look away. It’s too hard to watch, because he knows what’s coming. Awkward sympathy. A friendly rejection. It’s the reason Sebastian has kept his feelings to himself for years. Chris’ friendship is more important than a stupid paralyzing crush.

 

“You told me he didn’t know, but  _ he didn’t know _ ,” Steve hisses to Bucky, and Sebastian wants to grind his teeth together. The floor has suddenly become very interesting.

 

Chris gives a frustrated grunt. “Can’t you two fucking  _ shut up _ ?” he asks. Pleads, more like. “I don’t know, go in the bathroom and make out or something. No sex. Just kissing.”

 

Bucky makes a scoffing noise, but Sebastian watches as they disappear into the bathroom. Sebastian glances back down at his sneakers. They’re really white, practically brand new, he’s probably never even worn them outside of hotels, and they make the frayed edges of his old sweatpants look even worse. 

 

“Finally,” Chris exhales. Sebastian tries to pry his gaze up from the floor but doesn’t quite manage it. He’s also trying to block out the noises coming from the bathroom. That’s groaning, and then now he’s pretty sure something just clattered to the floor.  _ Are they fucking on the counter? _

 

Sebastian never thought that he’d be having  _ this _ conversation with Chris while their fictional counterparts apparently get it on in the bathroom. It’s even more awkward than he dreamed it could be.

 

“You not gonna look at me anymore?” Chris asks softly.

 

Sebastian forces his eyes up. Chris is hovering closer, the chair abandoned, and his hands are dangling uselessly at his sides, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. Whether he should touch Seb or . . .not.

 

Everything that Sebastian never wanted Chris to agonize over.

 

But Chris knows now, there’s nothing he can do to change that. It’s over and done with. “So, why did you decide Steve was in love with Bucky?” he asks, because mostly, he’s genuinely curious. He’d got the feeling that was how Chris was playing it, but he wasn’t sure Chris himself knew. And he never asked because as far as Sebastian was concerned, this whole topic was taboo.

 

Chris’ smile is wry. “I never asked myself that question until about five minutes ago. I just . . .went with it. It seemed right. It seemed like something Steve would do – sacrifice everything for someone he loved.”

 

Sebastian nods. It  _ does  _ sound like the Steve Rogers that Chris created.

 

“And the damndest thing,” Chris continues, “is that this isn’t crazy.”

 

“It’s not?” Sebastian’s mouth isn’t working properly. Chris is gazing at him like he’s just found the key to the universe and it’s a  _ lot _ .

 

“You said it wasn’t either,” Chris reminds him gently, like Sebastian could ever forget.

 

“I meant . . .” Sebastian hesitates then decides,  _ fuck it _ , “I meant that it wasn’t crazy  _ to me _ . Or a surprise. Really. At all. Actually.”

 

Chris tilts his head to the side and looks contemplative. Not upset. Not disgusted.

 

“Please don’t say you’re flattered,” Sebastian says before he can stop himself.

 

Chris shoots him a filthy smile, dirty and sexy and wicked. Sebastian’s heart practically jumpstarts in his chest. Every nerve ending in his body is thrumming with that smile and they’re not even touching. “But I am,” he says, and  _ god _ , his eyes sweep from the top of Sebastian’s head to his toes, making a very leisurely perusal in-between. He bites his bottom lip and looks both innocently flushed and suggestive as hell. “ _ Very  _ flattered, in fact.”

 

Sebastian gapes at him.

 

“You’re . . .you’re  _ flirting  _ with me.”

 

Chris leans back against the back of the couch. The same couch Sebastian is touching. He’s only a little surprised that it doesn’t grow hotter now that they’re touching, kind of like the air that’s simmering between them suddenly.

 

“I’ve been flirting with you for years, I just didn’t realize it,” Chris admits. “Also, is it weird for us to be flirting with our doppelgangers humping each other only fifteen feet away? I think I just heard something break.”

 

And it’s true, the sounds from the bathroom have grown louder and rather more pronounced. Sebastian, for his own sanity, has been trying to ignore them. It’s growing tougher. 

 

And that’s when Chris’ alarm on his phone goes off, loud and shrill. Chris grimaces and reaches over to shut it off. “Breakfast in half an hour,” he says. “First event of a long press day.”

 

“What are we going to do with them?” Sebastian asks helplessly. Also wonders,  _ what the hell are we going to do about us? What do you mean, you’ve been flirting with me for years? What does that mean? Please tell me right now so I don’t have to spend the day agonizing over it. _

 

“Leave them here? I don’t know, we can’t exactly take them downstairs to the press junket,” Chris says, very reasonably. “That’d cause a sensation I can’t imagine Marvel would like.”

 

Sebastian can imagine that all too well – those two can barely keep their hands off each other. 

 

He shoots Chris a conspiratorial smile. “We could film them and make enough to set us up for life.”

 

Chris throws his head back and laughs, boob grab and all.

 

“Brilliant,” he chortles. “But seriously. We leave them here. With a dish of food and water and about half a dozen condoms thrown in for good measure.”

 

Sebastian waits because that  _ can’t  _ be all. “And then I guess we come back after this press day from hell and decide what to do then,” Chris finishes.

 

It’s a little vague for the hopes and dreams and white picket fences that Sebastian’s heart has been envisioning. This is  _ another  _ reason why he’s never let himself really consider Chris Evans a possibility. What Sebastian wants is a lot. The idea of settling for less is gravely disappointing.

 

Better not to expect anything at all.

 

“Hey,” Chris says, because the emotions must be written all over Sebastian’s face and now that Chris knows, he  _ knows _ what that look means. “Hey, that came out wrong.” He scoots over until his leg is just brushing Sebastian’s. “The truth is, I’ve never considered this.” He brushes again, more purposefully. “I don’t know why, because it seems pretty obvious.”

 

Sebastian’s gaze flies up to Chris’ face. “It does?”

 

“I mean,” Chris says bashfully. “You’re  _ Sebastian _ . Of course it’s obvious. But it’s a lot. All of this is, actually. It wouldn’t hurt to take this slow. To think about it. To talk about it.”

 

It’s  _ not  _ a bad idea. “Okay,” Sebastian says, though he’s honestly done all his thinking over the last seven years. He knows what he wants, if he would let himself. But if Chris has never considered it, then it’s worth not being hasty.

 

Chris is still staring at him, flushed and bashful and it takes Sebastian a lot longer than it should for him to catch on. He’s staring at his  _ lips _ .

 

Chris Evans wants to kiss him.

 

Isn’t  _ that  _ a thought? Sebastian goes hot and then cold. He’s wanted it for a long time; longer than he would ever admit to himself. But he hasn’t brushed his teeth. His hair is greasy. He needs a shower. He’s wearing ratty sweatpants and he’s pretty certain that their fictional counterparts have moved from the bathroom counter to the bathtub and there’s some noises happening that aren’t very subtle or easy to misunderstand. This isn’t the first kiss that Sebastian has been trying not to fantasize about for years.

 

He leans in anyway and brushes a quick one on Chris’ bearded cheek. It’s soft, silky under his lips and yeah,  _ that’s  _ an image he needed to have in his brain for the rest of the day while he tries to not let Mackie humiliate him in front of approximately a thousand members of the press.

 

“Uh, yeah, we’re going to have to do this again,” Chris says, and they exchange very bashful smiles. Sebastian feels a bit like he’s in high school again. It’s an unexpectedly good feeling.

 

“Sure,” Sebastian agrees. “After this day.”

 

Chris glances towards the bathroom. “They’ve been quiet for approximately one point four minutes. Do you think it’s safe to approach?”

 

“Do we have a choice?”

 

Chris gets up with an exaggerated groan and walks over to the bathroom door. He knocks on it, and yells through the wood, “finish up, boys.”

 

There’s some rustling and twenty seconds later, the door opens. Sebastian can see Chris’ grimace from where he’s sitting. He can only guess the room smells like sex.

 

“We’ve got press stuff today,” Chris says as Bucky emerges from the restroom followed by Steve. Their uniforms are crumpled and hair mussed. Sebastian tries to ignore the glow both of them are sporting.  _ He’s not jealous _ . “So you’re gonna have to stay up here in the room.”

 

Sebastian also ignores the way neither of them look particularly disappointed by this.

 

What he can’t ignore is the way that Chris’ nerves still seem to be fraying at this situation and with a day of press, Sebastian can’t bear the thought of it getting worse. So he offers to take both of them with him to his room while he gets ready for the day.

 

“No,” Chris says as he shakes his head vehemently. “No. They’re too recognizable together.”

 

“And they’re not recognizable apart? It’s not weird that I’m walking around with a clone of myself?”   
  


They finally compromise by agreeing that Sebastian will take Steve. If anyone runs into them, it’ll just look like he’s with Chris. Admittedly, Chris in a Captain America costume off-set, but then weirder things have happened.

 

By the time Sebastian and Steve have made it back to his room, he only has twenty minutes to get ready to face the members of the press.

 

He takes a ten minute shower, most of it with his head against the tile, hot water beating over him, trying to make sense of what his life has become. They have doppelgangers, who have somehow crossed over space and time to become matchmakers. And Chris is not opposed to the idea.

 

Sebastian could take a sixty minute shower and none of this would sink in.

 

When he walks out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, Steve has pulled out all Sebastian’s clothes from the suitcase on the bed and is contemplating the selection.

 

“Good, you’re here,” Steve says seriously, like this is an actual mission. “I’ve been considering your options. Well, what options there are.”

 

Sebastian shoots him a look. “What are you doing?” he asks slowly.

 

Steve shoots him an even dirtier look back. “What are  _ you  _ doing?” he asks archly. “Are you trying to ruin all your best assets?”

 

Sebastian just gapes. “Excuse me?”

 

Steve isn’t fucking around though. “Believe me, if anyone’s made a study of your body’s best features over the last seventy years, it’s me. I know what makes you look good. And well, none of this is going to work.”

 

“I . . .I look good.” Sebastian can’t believe he’s having this conversation with a man who wears plaid shirts and dad jeans. Unironically. 

 

Steve throws up his hands in surrender. “We work with what we have, I guess.” He gives the items on the bed another perusal. “These black jeans, yes. Tighter is better,” he says, clearly having no qualms about eyeing up Sebastian like he’s a stand-in for Bucky. Sebastian nearly retorts that  _ he came first _ ,  _ thank you very much _ , but that would make this whole conversation even weirder, so he doesn’t. He merely grabs underwear and puts on the jeans Steve picked. Modesty is useless. It’s not like Steve hasn’t seen everything he’s got to offer.

 

Steve finally decides on a white t-shirt. It’s old and thin, something that Sebastian brings for sleeping. There’s even a few holes dotted across the surface. It’s . . .not his first choice. “Really?” he asks dubiously, eyeing the selection.

 

Rolling his eyes, Steve offers the black motorcycle jacket. “And the boots, too,” he calls out as Sebastian pulls on the t-shirt and tries not to contemplate how ridiculous he is going to look. Mackie is absolutely going to say something about this. It’s inevitable.

 

But whatever Steve did must be magic because when they’re back in front of Chris’ hotel room door only a few minutes later, Chris’ jaw drops a little as he takes in the way Sebastian looks. “You look um . . .” Chris seems to hesitate. “Really, really good. Very James Dean.” From the way Chris is rubbing his neck and blushing red, Sebastian guesses that’s a good thing.

 

Chris is wearing one of those painted-on blue v-necks that Sebastian tries really hard not to fantasize about.  He tries not to ogle Chris too much as he leaves last minute instructions for Steve and Bucky. “There’s a box of condoms in the dresser,” he hears him say and Sebastian tries not to wonder what Chris is doing traveling with a box of condoms. “And make sure you change and put Bucky in the bathroom when you call down for room service. You’re  _ me _ , not you.”

 

Steve salutes, though Sebastian is almost certain there’s a mocking twist to his mouth. Apparently Captain America is not only an excellent wardrobe consultant, he’s also a pain in the ass.

 

Chris and Sebastian walk down the hallway to the elevator together. “Tell me this is gonna be okay,” Chris whispers as they get onto the empty elevator. “Also tell me they’re not gonna fuck on my bed.”

 

Sebastian looks at the ceiling and tries not to visualize what that might look like. “Uhhhh.”

 

“Right, right. That’s . . .not helpful,” Chris says, clearly more to himself. “Damn, we make a hot couple.”

 

That’s the moment the elevator doors open to the conference center floor, and Sebastian is trying to wrap his head around Chris thinking they’d be hot together and he really can’t do this without coffee.  _ Lots of coffee _ .

 

Chris isn’t drinking caffeine right now or  . . .something, Sebastian isn’t sure, but personally, he’d be dead if he ever attempted that. So he makes a beeline alone for the coffee station.

 

And of course, Mackie finds him right away. “Seabass,” Sebastian hears behind him. “Hitting the juice hard already?”

 

Sebastian grips the cardboard cup in his hand because his fingers are still trembling and he’s still a little hard from thinking about Chris thinking about them, and well, he’s a wreck.

 

“You fly in last night?” Sebastian asks, trying to be casual as he turns around.

 

Mackie shoots him an odd look. He really wishes that he wasn’t so perceptive.

 

“Not that late, I texted you,” Mackie says. “Didn’t see you at the gym this morning.”

 

Sebastian isn’t prepared to give an excuse of why he didn’t hit the gym like he usually does. Press days make him anxious – not as anxious as they make Chris – but there’s so much money riding on these movies and so many details and so many rules about what he can and cannot say. So he’ll often go work off his extra energy with Mackie in the mornings. 

 

Obviously not this morning.

 

“Uhhhhh,” Sebastian stalls. His mind is blank except for the truth, and he really can’t tell Mackie. He can’t tell  _ anyone. _

 

Mackie nods knowingly, that glint in his eye. “Finally gettin’ some, I see.” He looks over at where Chris is laughing with Scarlett.

 

Sebastian goes white and then red. Mackie’s hinted and teased before but never so clearly. Surely he’s not that obvious?

 

Mackie must see the panic on his face because he just laughs like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “Don’t worry, man, I think you’re fine in that department.”

 

This is absolutely, categorically untrue.

 

But Sebastian goes along with it anyway, letting Mackie corral him over to their room for the day. He glances back over his shoulder once, and Chris is still next to Scarlett, but he’s not talking to her. He’s staring right at Sebastian.

 

He tilts his head once, and there’s a look in his eyes that Sebastian’s never seen before. It makes his heart race in a barrage of uneven thumps even after he sits down next to Mackie and he’s sure the other man is going to be able to hear it.

 

“I get it,” Mackie says, like this conversation isn’t over. “You’re both pretty hot. Makes it a pretty good match.”

 

The Marvel press liaison enters then, and gives Mackie a strange look. “Who are you talking about?” she asks, even though he can already tell by her expression that she’s only asking because she should, not because she actually wants to know the answer. She’s better off not knowing.

 

Mackie just shrugs. “Seb and his new dog.”

 

Sebastian doesn’t have a new dog. Also, he’s terrified of why Mackie thinks that he’d make a good match with a theoretical dog.

 

But it shuts her up quick, though god only knows what she’s going to tell the other PR liaisons tonight over drinks. Probably that he’s into bestiality. 

 

As long as she doesn’t tell them that he’s hallucinated Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, and they’re currently almost certainly fucking in Chris’ room.

 

Anything is better than the truth.

 

“Man, you’re fucking sweating,” Mackie complains between their first and second interview. “What is your deal?”

 

Sebastian can’t explain. Instead, he takes his jacket off, and Mackie leans in closer, expression baffled. “Is that your . . .does your t-shirt have  _ holes  _ in it, Seabass?”

 

Sebastian really hates Captain America. Really, really hates him.

 

“I uh . . .it’s hard to explain,” Sebastian says, but he knows he’s only saved from telling the whole story when their next interviewer walks in.

 

Mackie shoots him a look that Sebastian  _ knows  _ means that he’s going to be telling it at some point during this day.

 

Avoidance is futile.

 

Fine. Sebastian would much rather tell  _ that  _ story than the  _ other  _ story he could tell.

 

\-----

 

Lunch arrives, and as he and Mackie head into the green room away from the ravenous members of the press, Sebastian sees Chris eyeing him. So he obstinately goes over to fill his coffee cup again, even though he’s already a little shaky with caffeine. Chris wanders over, checking out the selection of herbal teas even though Sebastian has never seen him drink tea  _ ever _ and it’s not like they need an excuse to talk to each other. They’re co-stars. They’re friends. Talking is not weird.

 

But  _ what  _ they’re talking about – that’s a different story.

 

“Do you think I should go check on them?” Chris asks in a hushed whisper.

 

“If you haven’t gotten any calls, I’d leave it,” Sebastian says slowly. “Do you really want to show up there unannounced?”

 

Chris makes a face. “Good point.” Then he makes another face. “I’m gonna have to get another room tonight, aren’t I?”

 

Sebastian doesn’t even think about it. He just says it. Intelligent forethought be damned. “You could always bunk with me,” he says.

 

Chris flushes, his expression both wolfish and a tiny bit bashful. Sebastian’s heart is accelerating again, and he’s sure Chris should be able to see it underneath the thin t-shirt he’s wearing.

 

“Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first, Stan?” Chris asks.

 

Sebastian can’t remember the last time he actually asked someone out. Nevermind someone that he’s wanted for a long time – but then he’s never pined for  _ anyone  _ the way he’s pined for Chris. He either dated them or he didn’t. He didn’t ever spend years trying to bury feelings that never seemed to dissipate. So getting the next sentence out is really difficult and he manages to do it without even stumbling once, which  _ good job, Sebastian _ . “We could do that too.”

 

“Are you askin’ me out?” Chris smiles.

 

Sebastian gives a slow nod. They’ve come too far to really turn back now. He could deny it but then he might never know. And the way Chris is gazing at him now makes him actually believe this might happen.

 

“Alright then. Dinner and then if all goes well, you can take me home to your humble abode.”

 

Sebastian’s palms are sweating. They’ve been standing at the hot beverage station for nearly five minutes now, he’s long since filled his cup and everyone in this room knows Chris is never going to pick an herbal tea. Everyone probably has a very good idea that they’re flirting like mad. “It’s pretty humble,” he teases. 

 

Chris’ eyes look so blue. “Does it have a bed?”

 

All Sebastian can get out of his uncooperative mouth is a solemn, “yes.”

 

“Then, we’re all set.” Chris shoves his hands into his pockets and wanders away, leaving Sebastian alone to contemplate the coffee carafe before finally getting himself together enough to grab some lunch.

 

Between their next two interviews, Sebastian pleads a bathroom break, but in reality, he’s calling the concierge, asking for some help and some advice.

 

When he checks his phone next, there’s an emailed copy of their dinner reservations for tonight, and notes about a car set to drive them there.

 

If he’s finally going to get to go out with Chris Evans, he’s going to do it right.

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Mackie asks.

 

Because Mackie clearly has some sort of radar when it comes to Sebastian and Chris.

 

Sebastian stifles a groan and tries to look innocent and casual. “Probably just dinner in my room,” he says. It’s not completely a lie. There’s going to be dinner, and then hopefully, maybe, if Sebastian gets really lucky, Chris will stay the night. Not even for anything other than sleeping. Or at least that’s what Sebastian is trying to tell himself.

 

Because if he thinks about it, he’s going to have a meltdown, and that’s not going to get anyone anywhere.

 

Mackie just looks at him. “Yeah, no,” he says.

 

“You,” he continues, “are you going to text Chris and tell him you want to have dinner with him. And during the dinner, you’re going to tell him about the white picket fence and the husband thing and then the babies you’re gonna adopt together. Because I really can’t take a moment longer of you two pining over each other.”

 

Sebastian opens his mouth and then closes it.

 

“I mean it, Seabass. I’m not even kidding.”

 

“Right, well, um.” Sebastian really doesn’t know what to say. “I’m working on it,” he finally settles on. “I’m really working on it.”

 

Mackie shoots him a look. “Seriously?”   
  


Sebastian frowns. “Tonight, actually,” he finally admits. “We’re already going out tonight.”

 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” Sebastian knows Mackie puts on a lot of extra attitude but there’s a genuine strain of hurt in his eyes. “Really?”

 

“It’s . . .it might not work out. It might be a terrible idea. It might be one night and then nothing else. I don’t know. I don’t . . .jinx isn’t the right word.”

 

Mackie’s face softens. “You don’t want to have to explain it if it doesn’t work out.”

 

“Right.” Sebastian shoots him a thankful look. He doesn’t have to add that dating Chris – and Chris dating him – is a risky proposition considering their careers and considering who they’re under contract with. If this dating experiment fails, there’s screen chemistry at risk and potentially awkward filming and press tour run-ins to contend with. If it succeeds . . . well, Sebastian isn’t quite ready to even consider what that might mean for their future, both individually and collectively. It’s terrifying, which is why he’s never crossed the line. Barely even let himself think about crossing it. And now tonight, it’s happening, and his throat’s tight and his palms are damp.

 

“It’s gonna be grand,” Mackie says lightly. “Kinda glad I ended up on a different floor, to be honest.”

 

Sebastian shoots him a dirty look. “Who says I’m the kind of girl who puts out on the first date?”

 

Mackie’s look back is  _ flinty _ and Sebastian just rolls his eyes in response because  _ he’s not wrong _ .

 

Maybe not for anyone else, but for Chris Evans? Yeah, he’d put out on the first date. No question about it.

 

The last interview of the day feels endless. Sebastian doesn’t feel like he’s all that spectacular at interviews, even on his best, least-distracted day. Today is definitely not that day, and Mackie does a lot of heavy lifting, for which Sebastian is sure he’ll pay later, in spades.

 

Chris finishes first, and he’s totally loitering near the elevators, waiting for Sebastian. Mackie raises an eyebrow but thankfully says nothing.

 

Chris is fidgety in the elevator and Sebastian feels the echo of it in his bones as Mackie finally gets off on his floor with a knowing grin. “Be safe, kids,” he throws out as the doors close behind him.

 

Glancing up, Chris looks surprised but not unhappy. “You told him?” he asks.

 

Sebastian isn’t sure whether to apologize or not. “I had to,” he finally admits. “He wouldn’t leave me alone about asking you out.”

 

Chris chuckles and leans back against the rail with a smirk. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”

 

“I didn’t even knew  _ he  _ knew,” Sebastian protests.

 

“Apparently  _ everyone _ knows,” Chris says. “Mackie and probably Scarlett, if I read the nudges she was sending my direction right. Even our fucking characters know.”

 

“I think it’s safe to say they knew first.”

 

The elevator dings open. “Something I’m going to try  _ not  _ to think about while I possibly decontaminate my hotel room,” Chris says wryly.

 

“Have fun with that,” Sebastian smirks.

 

Chris shoots him an incredulous look. “You’d better not leave me to deal with them. I swear to god, Stan.”

 

“No, no, I’m definitely going to . . .help.” Sebastian doesn’t really know what helping entails. “At some point.”

 

They’re nearing Sebastian’s room, and he pulls out his key card. Chris leans over, all pretense of platonic accompaniment forgotten. “Gonna help me out later, huh?” he nearly purrs into Sebastian’s ear.

 

Sebastian drops the key card in surprise. He always forgets how single-minded Chris can be when he wants something, and somehow Chris has decided that it’s Sebastian he wants.  _ Finally _ . He glances up at Chris, blue eyes glowing with mischief, and it’s  _ hard  _ not to just shove him back against the door and kiss him, damn the consequences.

 

“Later, yeah,” Sebastian says after the long heated moment stretches out between them, and it’s not even a promise, it’s a  _ vow _ .

 

He watches as Chris absorbs the words, the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows hard. There’s a faint tremor in his hand as he leans down the rest of the way and swipes the key card from the floor, handing it to Sebastian. 

 

“Car’s coming at seven,” Sebastian offers softly. There’s heat here – after so many years of flirting and sexual tension, it’s inevitable – but there’s also a weight to this. “And then we can finally talk.”

 

\-----

 

Chris is absolutely expecting the worst when he opens the door to his hotel room. He even knocks first, which he’s never done in his life, at least not when the room is technically supposed to be his and his alone. But it’s surprisingly quiet, even when he casually leans up against the door and presses his ear to the wood. Total silence.

 

Somehow this should be more comforting than it is.

 

Chris shoves his key card into the slot and opens the door. He doesn’t know what he was expecting exactly – but what he sees isn’t it.

 

Steve and Bucky are fully clothed. And asleep. They’re spooning on the couch, tucked into each other, which is the only way they’ve kept themselves on the too-small surface. Chris’ bed is seemingly undisturbed from when he’d left it in a hurry this morning.

 

He could wake them up, but they look so peaceful that Chris experiences a small pulse of longing. He can’t remember the last time he was that happy to be just next to someone. Walking to the bathroom and flipping on the light and then the shower, Chris’ hands freeze in the middle of shucking his clothes.

 

The last time he felt like that, the last time he felt himself begin to fold into the comfort of another person, that was with Sebastian, when they were filming  _ The Winter Soldier _ . And the time before that, when Sebastian flew a horrible red eye to pep talk him through the  _ Avengers  _ premiere. And about a dozen times before that.

 

The way that Steve and Bucky wrap themselves around each other and orbit each other’s universes? That’s the way that Chris has always yearned for Sebastian, whenever he’s cold or sick or upset or nervous or anxious – even when he’s none of those things, and he just wants to laugh with someone. Sebastian is who he seeks out. Every single time.

 

He finishes shedding his clothes and steps into the hot spray, wondering the whole time how it is that  _ the  _ person could be next to him for years, and he never even noticed.

 

That’s not true exactly. He  _ did  _ notice, but even through the realization he was attracted to women  _ and  _ men, and even when he’d been undeniably attracted to Sebastian, he’s still never connected this feeling of belonging, of  _ needing _ , to a non-platonic emotion. To being  _ in love _ .

 

Chris isn’t sure whether he’s just slow or badly in-tune with his emotions. Either way, he can’t really believe that Sebastian has been patient this whole time for him to get his act together. He’s a fucking lucky asshole, and now that the planets have aligned properly and he  _ knows _ , things are gonna be hell of a lot different going forward. He’s going to make certain of that.

 

He finishes showering and wraps the towel around his waist, exiting in a cloud of steam to the bedroom. The noise must have woken Steve and Bucky because they’re upright now, blinking slowly, but clearly conscious.

 

“Morning,” Chris says as he walks over his suitcase. He whips the towel off and feels no shame because 1) he knows he looks good and 2) it’s not like this isn’t something that’s new to either of them.

 

Steve clucks disapprovingly (of course) and Chris ignores him in favor of pulling on a pair of black boxer briefs.

 

“I didn’t get any phone calls today so I have to assume you two behaved yourselves,” Chris says, absently sorting through the clothes he’s brought with him.

 

“Of course we did,” Steve says very loyally.

 

“We didn’t even mess up your bed,” Bucky adds. He pauses. “Can’t say much about the floor though.”

 

Chris glances over at the box of condoms he placed on the dresser. It’s still full and sealed. The pair must catch his look because they both roll their eyes. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty for you,” Steve says. “Sort of unnecessary for us.”

 

“You and Sebastian are goin’ out tonight, yeah?” Bucky asks slyly, looking so much like Sebastian when he teases that for a split second, it’s  _ really _ hard to focus on the clothes in his suitcase. He just wants to pin him to the couch and kiss him and touch him and fuck him until neither of them are capable of moving.

 

“Yeah, we are,” Chris admits. And then decides,  _ fuck it _ . What’s the point of having your own pair of doppelganger matchmakers if you can’t unload on them once in awhile. “What if Sebastian got sick of waiting?” he asks, because there’s definitely that fear. Maybe Sebastian is just letting him down easy. Maybe all Sebastian feels is remnants of an affection that’s long turned platonic.

 

“Didn’t look too sick of waiting this morning,” Steve says.

 

“I know you’re gonna be beatin’ yourself up about waiting too long, taking too long,” Bucky chimes in. “But you shouldn’t. It’s not like he’s ever tried. He knows it. He spent a long time telling himself what he felt wasn’t what he felt. Not that much different from you.”

 

Steve shoots him a light hearted glare. “How would you know what he’s doing? He’s  _ my  _ actor.”

 

Bucky just rolls his eyes. “Always guilty like you’re guilty, yeah? You got it from somewhere, babe.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris grinds out as he stares into his suitcase. He’s only got one pair of pants that aren’t jeans, and they’re khakis, He grimaces. Normally he wouldn’t give a shit. But he doesn’t want to wear a pair of  _ making good with a pair of Marvel execs  _ khakis on his date with Sebastian. Sebastian who always looks  _ so  _ good and put together with just jeans and a t-shirt that sometimes Chris can’t look away.

 

“You’re hopeless,” Steve says. Bucky makes a sound of agreement.

 

“There was this suit,” Chris says, even though it’s not like the doppelgangers are magic. They can’t conjure up clothes for him to wear. “Wore it at one of the last premieres. I actually felt the way people always see me.”

 

There’s a rustling sound, and when Chris glances over, Bucky’s there. His hair is slicked back flawlessly, just a little different from Sebastian’s more rumpled style, and he holds himself a little different. More upright. Muscles tighter. The look in his blue eyes more reserved, less playful.

 

It doesn’t stop Chris from glancing down to that full bottom lip and letting his mind wander a bit.

 

He thinks he’s being subtle, but he must not be, because Bucky flutters his eyelashes. “Like what you see, doll?”

 

His throat feels a bit tight. He’s almost sure that Sebastian is what he wants, but there’s something really hot about this version of him. A little slyer. A little tougher. A Sebastian without the blurrier edges.

 

“Let’s see what we can do about you,” Bucky says, shoving his hands into the suitcase, and flipping through the options.

 

Chris settles back against the bed, trying not to too obviously stare at Bucky’s ass in those uniform pants. He glances over at Steve and isn’t surprised to see that they’re both looking. He shrugs and Steve shrugs back, like neither of them can really help it when those gorgeous curves are  _ right there _ .

 

“I know you’re both staring,” Bucky announces, though he seems more amused than annoyed.

 

“It’s a real good view,” Steve admits.

 

Chris crosses his arms across his bare chest. “How can you be so sure of how you feel about him if I didn’t even know?”

 

Steve gives the same shrug as earlier. “Maybe you weren’t ready to know. But you gave me all of this. I exist because of it.”

 

Chris doesn’t know what to say about that. The idea that he transferred all his romantic feelings to a character he was playing because he couldn’t deal with them personally – that’s a lot to take in.

 

He doesn’t want to ask, but he isn’t sure he can do anything else. “Do you love him?” he asks, and it’s soft and earnest and pleading. Not at all like he imagined it in his head.

 

It should be strange looking into his own eyes. Seeing that same earnestness there. It’s not. “Yes. More than anything else.”

 

“Are you two finished?” Bucky interrupts. Chris glances up. He’s placed his darkest wash jeans on the bed, along with a dark green button-up that he’d brought to wear with the khakis.

 

He doesn’t even argue. He changes into the clothes, fixes his hair, ignores the wolf whistles of the terrible twosome and is down the hallway at five minutes to seven. Sebastian might have planned the date, but Chris wants to show Sebastian that he wants this too. In fact the more he lets the possibility grow, the more the feelings that he must have buried come flooding in.

 

He knocks on Sebastian’s door. There’s nerves fizzing in his belly but everything goes still the moment Sebastian opens the door. He’s in nearly the same clothes as earlier. White t-shirt swapped out for a navy that darkens his eyes and makes his skin glow. He looks fucking edible, and Chris while simultaneously not exactly nervous, can’t deny that suddenly he  _ wants _ and he wants  _ bad _ . He wants to crowd Sebastian back up against the door and devour him.

 

He watches Sebastian swallow hard and he thinks he watches him make the decision not to do this now. “Ready to go?” he asks and Chris can only nod helplessly. He can’t remember the last time he was on a date and he was so distracted by the possibility of a first kiss.

 

How could he have seen Sebastian all these times and never been consumed by it before?

 

\----

 

The car is black and discrete. They slip into the backseat, and Chris fights with himself for one moment before letting his palm rest on the Sebastian’s back as he climbs in.

 

He’s forgotten entirely how it feels when you’re with someone you like and you’re anxious about doing too much and doing too little. He feels that familiar tightness in his throat before Sebastian turns and smiles at him. The lump dissipates almost completely. He’s with Sebastian. This is important, but it’s not a test he has to pass.

 

“It’s not awkward, is it?” Sebastian asks. “We could’ve Ubered over, but,” he shrugs a little helplessly, suddenly looking very European, “you never know what you’ll get with those.” Chris knows what he means without the explanation – neither of them are out publicly, and while one always hopes that people will be decent, it’s by no means a guarantee.

 

“No, I like it,” Chris admits. It always feels good when someone makes an effort to impress him. Especially when it’s someone he admires.

 

“Good,” Sebastian says, relaxing back into the leather seat. “It’s not far, but then we don’t have to worry about a cab back either.”

 

“Already thinking about heading back?” Chris asks, shooting the man next to him a sly smile. “Eager much?”

 

Sebastian grins back unrepentantly. “I’m not the one who’s already started talking about my ‘humble abode.’” He pauses and makes a little grimace. “Not to totally derail this whole really hot flirty banter, but how are they? Was your room destroyed?”

 

Chris is infinitely amused. That grimace wasn’t for him, it was for Sebastian himself, probably because he thought he was being dorky and lame, and  _ he was _ , but he’s Chris’ dork and it’s adorable. 

 

“They were surprisingly respectful,” Chris admits. “Rather obsessed with my wardrobe, but otherwise, they seemed to have contained themselves to the sofa and the floor.”

 

The car pulls up to the curb and Sebastian blinks once then twice, like he’s got a sudden vision and he can’t quite clear it. Chris absolutely does not file that tidbit away for a rainy day. That would be assuming that he and Sebastian are going to be having enough regular sex to explore some mutual kinks. Like fucking on non-bed surfaces.

 

The driver opens the door and Chris feels the ghost of Sebastian’s hand hovering on his own back as they scoot out of the backseat. As they walk into the restaurant, he lets his arm swing just a little wider and if his hand brushes Sebastian’s, well, nobody needs to know about that, except the two of them. And from the sudden burst of sun on Sebastian’s features, he sure didn’t mind.

 

The host shows them to a private room, sparkling with candlelight and crystal. It’s intimidatingly romantic. Chris is beginning to wish he’d worn the khakis.

 

But then Sebastian jostles the place setting sitting down, like he might at the bar down the street, and makes a face at his own clumsiness. Chris chuckles and settles down in his own chair. “You’re cute,” he tells Sebastian, who’s still making this range of faces at himself. Even for an actor his expressiveness is impressive, and Chris realizes that he’s never told Sebastian that.

 

Sebastian blushes. “I’m not very good at this,” he admits in a conspiratorial tone. “I’m probably going to use the wrong fork and order a bad wine pairing.”

 

Chris’ glance back is amused. “I’m a good seventy-three percent Boston frat boy. I’m probably going to order a beer. I think we’ll be fine.”

 

“Right,” Sebastian says with a deep breath. “Maybe this . . .” 

 

“Maybe this was what we should’ve been doing this entire time?” Chris finishes with a smirk.

 

“I was gonna say, maybe this was the wrong venue, but if you’re gonna play it like that.”

 

Chris shakes his head emphatically. “I’m so fucking impressed, Seb. I mean, people don’t  _ try  _ to impress me. Fling a six pack and a steak my way and they assume I’m good. It’s . . .really nice that you want to. Something more than nice, if I’m being honest.”

 

“You’ve got a lot more dimensions than frat boy,” Sebastian replies sternly.

 

The waiter approaches then, and they order drinks. Sebastian asks for red wine recommendations. Chris asks what beers they have on tap and settles for a local IPA. When their drinks arrive a few minutes later, Chris insists on making a toast.

 

“To the future,” he says lightly, but he knows there’s a serious look in his eye. A  _ besotted  _ look, and he’s not sure it’s all that new. Chris likes to think there’s a mirror of that expression on Sebastian’s face and they’re just staring gooily at each other as they order dinner.

 

“You could’ve gotten the steak,” Sebastian says when the waiter leaves, gesturing with his wine glass. “I’m not judging, I promise.”

 

“Why?” Chris flutters his eyelashes. He’s realizing over the first part of this meal that flirting with Sebastian isn’t difficult. It’s not even new. It’s what he’s always done. He just knows what it means now – and he hopes it’ll mean something in terms of later tonight and tomorrow and a month and a year from now. “You want some of my meat?”

 

Sebastian chokes on his wine. Chris grins unrepentantly.

 

“I  _ know _ ,” Chris adds. “I know I could have. I felt like the halibut tonight.”

 

“So you’re not trying to impress me?” Sebastian asks coyly, eyes glinting turquoise. He’s so beautiful, lips tinted red from his wine, that every time Chris looks at him, it’s like a shot of adrenaline right to his heart and to his dick. It’s a  _ lot _ to sit here and laugh with him and not just lean over and kiss him yet.

 

“Actually,” Chris muses, “I think I’ve been trying to make you laugh since the first day we met. You came in for the chemistry read, and your mouth trembled a little. You were nervous, I think, and I wanted to make you calm. And to make you laugh. So I did.”

 

Sebastian leans back in his chair and regards him with amusement. “Did you know that’s mostly why they hired me?”

 

“Because I made you laugh?” It’s so strange the way fate hinges on the tiniest details. The way Sebastian’s lips trembled with nerves and how it had plucked at his heartstrings. He’d remembered his own nerves during every single audition, and he’d felt a sudden kinship. Most actors acted like auditions were nothing to get anxious about. But Chris knew the truth and he’d wanted to reward the boy with the beautiful smile and stunning eyes.

 

“Because we had fun in our read. Because we made each other laugh.”

 

Chris doesn’t remember laughing but if Sebastian was anything like himself, it was inevitable. Yet he remembers almost every other detail of that meeting, so many years ago. That in of itself should a huge clue that Sebastian is important.

 

“Confession,” Sebastian coos across the table, those eyes flashing a shade darker, “I wasn’t trembling because I was nervous. I was trembling because you were fucking hot, and I wanted to put my hands and mouth all over you.”

 

Their gazes meet across the table and Chris thinks dimly it’s about ten degrees hotter all of a sudden.

 

“And that’s not really changed since day one,” Sebastian finishes off his confession so casually.

 

“Wow,” is all Chris has.

 

“You  _ were _ adorable, though.”

 

“Seriously?” Chris exclaims.

  
Sebastian shrugs. “I had this sudden and very vivid fantasy of dropping to my knees and sucking your dick. I left the read imagining that I’d probably given Bucky a way too homoerotic edge, and there was no way they’d hire me for the part.”

 

“If you’re trying to guarantee something, let me tell you, I’ll give you everything you want. Tonight.” Chris knows his voice is low and gritty with arousal. But the image Sebastian just described as his own fantasy is mind-blowing.

 

The waiter chooses to return with their salads at the worst possible time, or the best possible time, if Chris wants to stay in his chair and away from Sebastian’s mouth.

 

Sebastian gives this  _ oh well  _ kind of shrug, his eyes gleaming with secret amusement. Like he knows what Chris is going through and he’s going through something very similar.

 

Chris gets another beer. If he can’t kiss Sebastian yet, then he needs alcohol.

 

The waiter leaves and Chris tries to downgrade into small talk. If they try to keep up the intense sexual banter, they’ll never make it through this meal. So he asks Sebastian about the scripts he’s looking at, and as they talk, Chris is reminded yet again that he gets the whole package with Sebastian.

 

He gets someone he’s insanely attracted to, who’s body and face make him want to fall to his knees and  _ beg _ for a taste, but he also gets someone who’s smart and funny and wry and makes these adorable faces. Someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously, which is a rarity in Hollywood circles.

 

“I’m a moron,” he suddenly says. “I’m a fucking moron.”

 

Sebastian glances up from his salad, puzzled look on his face. “You’re really not,” he says.

 

“I am,” Chris insists. “I . . .I’m crazy about you.  _ And I didn’t even know _ . How messed up is that? Are you sure you want to date someone who’s so emotionally fucked up?”

 

Sebastian’s face softens into a nearly unbearable fondness. “So we’re really going to talk about it, I guess.”

 

“It’s not all cute stories about how I made you laugh the first time we met.” Chris takes a deep swallow of his beer and tries not to let the tendril of anxiety that’s unfurling in his stomach grow.

 

“Of course it isn’t,” Sebastian says softly. “We’ve known each other for seven years. How could it just be stories like that? There’s plenty of times you’ve pissed me off. There’s some days I wanted to punch you in your perfect teeth.”

 

Chris lets out a half-laugh, half-sob at that. Even when they’re struggling through this  _ awful  _ thing, Sebastian is perfect.

 

“I didn’t let myself consider it either,” Sebastian continues. “I can tell you there’s not  _ one time  _ I hinted and you just didn’t pick up on it, because there were no hints. I was too afraid.”

 

He takes a sip of his wine and sets the glass down deliberately, his eyes never leaving Chris’. “So if you’re a moron, then I’m one too, and we can be morons together.”

 

The anxiety fizzles out, just that easy, easier than it ever has in Chris’ life. He can barely believe it. “Can . . .can I come over there? You’re too far away.”

 

Sebastian blushes, like he can barely believe Chris would want to be close to him, and that’s something Chris is going to fix right away. He’s out of his chair and in Sebastian’s space a moment later. He wraps a gentle hand around Sebastian’s arm and tugs him up. They’re so close, their noses nearly brush. Chris knows his fingers are trembling as he grasps Sebastian’s hips. This doesn’t feel like only a first kiss; this feels like the first moment of the rest of his life.

 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Chris murmurs and Sebastian’s eyes flutter closed. Across a dinner table, he’s beautiful, but up close, he’s a work of art and Chris wants to worship every inch of him.

 

“Okay,” Sebastian breathes out unsteadily. It’s entirely possible that this moment is as important to Sebastian as it is to Chris – in fact, Chris hopes it is.

 

Chris leans in the last inch, and brushes his lips over Sebastian’s. It seemed important before it ever happened, but after that first hesitant, simple kiss, it feels like there is a distinct divide in Chris’ head. There is Before Sebastian and now there is After Sebastian.

 

The most important thing about After Sebastian is that he’s allowed to kiss him again, and as soon as physically possible.

 

Sebastian dives in first, his arms reaching up for Chris’ shoulders, and then higher, tilting his head, finding the perfect angle, and the kiss blows the foundation of Chris’ mind right out. He barely realizes he’s moved his hands, but then they’re running along the muscles of Sebastian’s back and  _ wow _ , he feels insanely hot under Chris’ fingertips. He’s practically panting when Sebastian pulls away, his own breath unsteady.

 

Sebastian is smiling, a blinding smile of happiness that Chris can barely believe  _ he  _ put there. He wants to absorb that smile, wants to bask in that smile’s light. So it makes perfect sense to kiss Sebastian again. Deeper, really, because he can’t get deep enough. Sebastian’s mouth opens underneath his, and Chris tastes tart raspberry from the vinaigrette on his tongue and an echo of the red wine he’s been drinking. Sebastian groans, deep in his throat, and Chris can feel his fingertips dig into his skin. If he doesn’t move in the next .5 seconds, he’s going to ruin this date by forcibly dragging Sebastian back to the hotel.

 

It’s like Sebastian’s on the exact same page because he shifts backwards and their lips break apart. Chris can hear how harsh his breath sounds in the stillness of the room.

 

Sebastian slumps back into his chair and as he hears footsteps approach, Chris returns to his too.

 

He’s not particularly hungry for food anymore, but the waiter arrives with their main courses anyway. For a brief moment, Chris thinks that he’s relieved because that means this dinner is over sooner and he can get Sebastian back to the hotel.

 

It hits him then; as much as he’s looking forward to that moment, seven years in the making, he doesn’t want to lose this one either. Sebastian is cutting his steak and gazing at him like a man in love and Chris knows his expression is similar. There’s an added edge to the tension between them because they both know how this night will end, but the easy way they talk and joke together like they always have is a reminder that the only thing changing in their relationship is the blinders coming off.

 

Still, when the waiter slips a dessert menu on the table, Sebastian ignores it and asks for the check instead. Chris grins, not feeling even a hint of self-consciousness. “Eager much?” he asks when the waiter disappears with Sebastian’s credit card.

 

Sebastian blinks demurely, then shoots him an absolutely filthy look from underneath those long lashes. Chris’ heart stutters. “God damn, you are sexy,” he breathes out unsteadily. “Like the angel  _ and  _ the devil.”

 

Smirking, Sebastian leans back in his chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pauses. “But if I did, I’d say that I was an idiot to wait this long to seduce you. It’s pretty fucking easy.”

 

“Have you ever looked in a mirror?” Chris can’t help but ask. “I don’t know what ever gave you the idea it wouldn’t be. You’re hot as hell.”

 

Sebastian’s gaze darkens, and Chris can feel his pants growing tighter by the moment. He wonders if he could bait the other man into playing the devil right here. He’s just about to ask, when the waiter returns for the final time.

 

The dirty edges fall right off Sebastian’s beautiful face, and he’s kindness and innocence personified gazing up at the waiter, thanking him for his service tonight.

 

Chris is lightheaded. He’s out of his chair the moment the waiter is gone, and this time he knows he’s not as gentle as his hand wraps around Sebastian’s wrist, pulling him up. “That’s it,” he nearly growls, surprising himself at how rough he sounds. He doesn’t know if Sebastian is working his self-control on purpose, but Chris realizes it doesn’t matter. It’s hot regardless.

 

Sebastian raises an eyebrow as Chris hustles them out to the waiting car.

 

When they’re back inside, the partition firmly up, Chris turns to him. “ _ How do you do that?” _ he practically hisses.

 

“Do what?” Sebastian asks, settling back into the leather seat, a trace of smugness in his smile.

  
“Do  _ that _ ,” Chris demands, which isn’t really an explanation at all.

 

Sebastian reaches over and pats Chris’ knee, which starts comforting and ends up somewhere else entirely as his fingers slide right up Chris’ thigh. His dick throbs against the zipper of his jeans and Chris really hopes that Sebastian knows what this sort of teasing leads to. 

 

“This, you mean?” Sebastian asks softly.

 

“ _ This  _ and then look all . . .” Chris can’t find the words. He’s just a stupid frat boy from Boston. He’s not sure he has this sort of sexual sophistication down. Sebastian looks both too available and not available at all, which until this moment, Chris didn’t even realize was a kink of his.

 

Maybe it’s just Sebastian. Whatever it is, he really fucking loves it.

 

“I think you bring it out in me,” Sebastian admits in a sexy as fuck croon. His eyes are this smoky blue in the dim light of the town car.

 

“Whatever it is,” he grits out, “don’t ever fucking stop.”

 

The car pulls up at the hotel, and Chris reaches for Sebastian’s hand as they scoot out of the backseat. It’s dark outside but they’re technically in public. Sebastian glances down, and smiles at their tangled together fingers. Chris only drops them when they reach the lobby and the elevator bay. He’s not crazy enough to risk a PR lecture right now, when he could be getting Sebastian into his bed  _ finally _ . They can fight that fight another day, and if Chris knows anything about how they are together, they’ll come out on top. They’re a really good team, flexible and strong and shifty, not always willing to play by the rules.

 

“Should we check your room first?” Sebastian asks as they ride the elevator up to their floor. Their hands have gotten tangled again, and just touching his hand feels so good that Chris feels dizzy with it.

 

Chris glances over at Sebastian. “And let them distract us? Hell no. We’ll check on them. . . _ later _ .”

 

Sebastian looks unfairly amused, his bottom lip curving sinfully. “I see how it is.”

 

It’s hard to stop himself; Chris throws his head back and laughs. “Like you haven’t been trying to drive me insane since we kissed.”

 

“Since  _ before  _ that,” Sebastian admits as he digs out his room key. He slides it into the lock, and opens the door for Chris. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

 

\---

 

The door shuts behind him and Sebastian leans against it almost reflexively. Yeah, he’s been flirting pretty fucking shamelessly with Chris, and it’s clearly done its job, because Chris looks flushed, blue eyes hot on him, like he can barely contain himself. But Sebastian is just as worked up, mouth dry and every molecule of his body desperate to feel Chris.

 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Sebastian admits softly as Chris stares at him. They’re finally really alone, for the first time since this morning. He’s not nervous exactly, but it’s a lot to stand there and let Chris’ appraising look sizzle along every nerve.

 

Chris takes a few steps closer, and he’s cupping the back of Sebastian’s head, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. His expression is intensely serious. “Me too,” he finally admits, just before he leans in and kisses him.

 

Chris kisses with a single-minded focus, like it’s his plan to demolish Sebastian’s grip on sanity. His other hand settles hot and firm on his hip under his jacket, five distinct fingertips pressing into the fabric of his t-shirt.

 

It’s just one kiss, spinning into another and then another, but it’s still just kissing, and it’s one of the most erotic moments of Sebastian’s life.

 

When they finally break apart, Sebastian thinks he can see the same thought on Chris’ face. And he never wants to stop seeing that blown away look, that jolt of shock at how much Sebastian wants him.

 

So it feels like a fairly easy decision to slide down the door until his knees hit the floor. His hands are on Chris’ incredible thighs, and his breath is ghosting over the impressive bulge behind his zipper. A soft, incredulous sound slips out of Chris’ mouth, but Sebastian is already running his hands up those thighs, his fingers undoing the fastenings of Chris’ fly, yanking down his jeans. Heat is radiating out from his clothed cock, trapped in taut black fabric, and Sebastian feels drunk on power when just his shakily exhaled breath makes it twitch.

 

He leans in and nuzzles it. He’s spent a fucking long time fantasizing about this dick, and even longer fighting those fantasies. Sebastian doesn’t want to waste a moment and he also doesn’t want to miss any part of how good it feels to make Chris feel good.

 

Remembering Chris’ words from the car, he glances up, lets innocence fill his expression right as he lets his mouth drift right over Chris’ cock.

 

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” Chris swears, hands losing their fight as they drift down to nestle in Sebastian’s hair. The grip of his fingers is just tight enough to add a delicious edge of pain to the pleasure. “Oh yeah, baby, like that.”

 

“You like this?” Sebastian asks coyly, because he’s never been good at resisting the urge to tease.

 

The fingers tighten their grip in his hair and Sebastian groans a little at how it hurts in the best possible way. “I fucking love it,” Chris admits. “You’re so beautiful. Your face, my cock, it’s a  _ lot _ .”

 

Sebastian doesn’t really get it, but then it doesn’t matter if he does or not. It’s Chris’ kink and he’s perfectly happy to indulge in it to get Chris going. But Sebastian does think that he’s much too coherent, and he tugs down the black boxer briefs, ready to stop teasing and start making Chris moan.

 

He doesn’t know what Chris is babbling about, his face being so beautiful, because this cock is  _ gorgeous _ . It’s long and thick, and the most beautiful flushed red. Sebastian tongues up its length and can’t help but moan himself at the taste. It’s everything he’s wanted for so fucking long, and he’s getting it now, and he’s probably going to come in his pants at how hot this is.

 

It’s really easy to get drunk on this cock, because Sebastian gets cock drunk really quick – the taste and the heaviness of it on his tongue, the way Chris is gentle but insistent as he guides his dick right down Sebastian’s throat. It’s overwhelming and perfect and then suddenly it’s over, and he’s being hauled up, his mouth still wet and slack as he tries to comprehend why Chris’ is dick is no longer in it.

 

“Fuck, you can’t,” Chris chokes out, and Sebastian is nearly shocked by the intensity of the bliss on Chris’ face. He’s been too absorbed in his cock and he nearly managed to miss this look. “I wanna touch you.”

 

Chris steers them to the bed which is good because Sebastian is wobbly at best, and probably if Chris wasn’t hanging onto him, pressing his hot lips to every part of him he uncovers as he rips his clothes off, he’d fall right over. Preferably right onto Chris’ cock.

 

He’s naked in record time, and just leans back and watches as Chris strips his own clothes off. He’s probably got a dopey, dick drunk look on his face, but god he’s been thinking about this for  _ seven  _ fucking years. He literally thought about this in the first five minutes he ever met Chris.

 

Then Chris hunches over, muscles in his broad shoulders flexing, and Sebastian can’t watch anymore because he’s going to come if he does. Chris is so hot; he’s seven years of fantasies; seven years of  _ look but don’t touch _ ; seven years of pretending not even to look. And then he slides Sebastian’s cock into his mouth and he has to throw his back and clench the sheets into his fists and try to not let the searing pleasure overtake him.

 

It was self-preservation that Sebastian never thought about Chris Evans sucking cock, but it turns out that he’s incredible. Demanding and bossy even as he swallows him down, pushing right past his gag reflex like it’s nothing, trailing his fingers down Sebastian’s tight balls, sliding a wet finger in a teasing touch across his perineum and then his hole.

 

Sebastian only has a moment before he realizes he’s going to lose it. He can only grunt helplessly as the orgasm overtakes him, overwhelming and intense, Chris’ mouth hot and wet and tight as he milks Sebastian.

 

“Chris Evans swallows,” Sebastian says stupidly as Chris’ tongue reaches out to swipe a little bit of come he missed at the corner of his mouth. Chris smiles, hot and promising a lot more where that came from as he leans in to kiss Sebastian. Sebastian just came, but he vaguely imagines that his cock throbs again at the taste of his own come in Chris’ mouth.

 

“Can I?” Chris pants out between kisses.

 

Sebastian nods wildly because somehow he’s still turned on and that hasn’t happened since he was in his early twenties. He doesn’t know what Chris wants, but he’s pretty willing to give him just about anything he wants.

 

It doesn’t even matter what it is.

 

Chris rises his knees and tosses his head back as he slowly fists his cock, the head an angry red as it slides through his hand.

 

It only takes a few strokes and he’s coming all over Sebastian’s chest and stomach, hot stripes of come feeling like brands on his sensitive skin.

 

Chris collapses to the bed next to him, head falling to Sebastian’s shoulder. His fingers skim down Sebastian’s chest, tweaking a flat nipple, tracing the curves of his abs, smearing his own come.

 

“You’re incredible,” Chris mumbles softly. “So pretty. So nice. So . . . _ you _ .”

 

Sebastian’s heart feels like it grows a few sizes, but he still can’t help the teasing response. “Your pillowtalk is cute, Evans.”

 

“I think my brain came out my dick,” Chris says with an amused chuckle. “You’re going to have to wait a few minutes for anything of intelligence.”

 

Sebastian knows his expression is horribly fond.

 

“Basically,” Chris exhales a little shakily, and Sebastian isn’t sure that’s because of what they just did or something deeper, more emotional, “basically I’m crazy about you.”

 

Sebastian reaches up and strokes his cheek, the beard bristly but soft under his fingertips. He lets everything he feels around Chris but is always too afraid to admit to show on his face. “I’m crazy about you too.”

 

\----

 

Another round and a room service delivery later, Chris sighs and lays back against the headboard. “Do you think we should go check on them?”   
  


Sebastian shrugs. “It couldn’t hurt, I guess.”

 

Chris groans as he slides off the bed. He looks over at Sebastian and extends a hand. “Come with me?”

 

“Anytime. Anywhere.” Sebastian is sex drunk and happier than he can ever remember being and it’s erased his brain to mouth filter. The benefit is that Chris only flushes with pleasure and begins to dig around for their clothes.

 

Five minutes later, they’re dressed though somewhat rumpled, and knocking on Chris’ door.

 

There’s no answer.

 

More insistent knocking, but still no answer.

 

Chris finally pulls his key card out of his pocket and lets them in, grumbling the whole time that if they’re fucking in his bed, someone is gonna pay, that someone being Bucky.

 

But they’re not fucking on his bed, or really anywhere. In fact, the room is completely empty.

 

Sebastian experiences a heart-stopping panic that maybe they left the room, got sick of waiting around and just went off on their own, and any moment now, he or Chris will get a phone call asking them why they’re making out in public.

 

Chris must have the same thought because he’s digging out his phone, but there’s no missed calls or texts from PR. There’s nothing unusual, in fact, and he sits down heavily on the edge of the bed.

 

“Where did they go?” he asks.

 

Sebastian shrugs and wanders over to the other side of the bed. That’s when it catches his eye, a single piece of hotel stationary, covered in Chris’ own distinctive scrawl, but with an old-fashioned flourish that Sebastian can only assume is Steve Rogers’ contribution to their penmanship.

 

He plucks it off the side table and flicks a table lamp on.

 

“Dear Chris and Sebastian,” he reads out loud and Chris’ head snaps up, shock etched on his features.

 

_ Dear Chris and Sebastian, _

 

_ It’s getting to that point where we’re going to be heading back. We can both feel it, the tug of our other reality, a sign that you two finally figured things out. Congratulations, I know you’ll be really happy together – I know because I’ve never been happier than when Bucky is by my side. _

 

_ I know it’s not easy for you two to be together, but believe me when I tell you, that only makes it more worthwhile. Grab on tight and don’t let go of each other. _

 

_ Steve _

 

_ P.S. Don’t listen to him when he says he’s fine – he’s not usually fine. Bucky _

 

_ P.P.S. Also don’t listen to him when he claims he doesn’t love to get fucked. He really loves it. B _

 

Sebastian sits down heavily on the bed, the shock of seeing Chris’ handwriting a lot, but his own even greater. He  _ created  _ Bucky Barnes.

 

“Wow,” Chris says. “That is a total lie.”

 

Sebastian looks up to see Chris smiling at him crookedly. “What’s a total lie?”   
  


“Steve must be a really paranoid jerk, because I have no compunction in admitting I like being fucked,” Chris says.

 

Sebastian’s brain is short-circuiting. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Good to know.”

 

Chris is clearly oblivious to Sebastian’s struggle though, because he just shucks his shoes and swings his legs up on the bed, stretching out and letting out a contented sigh. “You know there’s only one part of this that totally blows,” he says.

 

Sebastian knows an invitation when he sees one. His own shoes are off instantly and he’s climbing onto the bed and on top of Chris. He raises an eyebrow. “What is that?” he asks impudently, loving the way Chris’ eyes darken as his hands drift down his chest.

 

“Nobody’ll ever believe us when we tell them how we got together.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com)


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